


(you made me a) believer

by wildlings (candybank)



Category: NINE PERCENT (Band), 乐华七子NEXT | NEX7, 偶像练习生 | Idol Producer (TV)
Genre: M/M, its a mafia au whores!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-09 08:30:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15263472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/candybank/pseuds/wildlings
Summary: i wanted it, so i fucking got it.





	(you made me a) believer

"yanchen, i don't know about this..." xukun's voice trembled when he talked, the same way his hands quivered as he slid tiny lines of white powder from the table into a ziplock bag.

"just fucking do it," yanchen snapped, chuckling. xukun looked up at him for a fraction of a second, and he thought yanchen looked a little crazed like that, all eager and smiling and too ambitious like he was. a firm hand smacked the side of his head. he was pushed back into action. 

just as he finished locking the bag and stuffing it down his boxers, the door creaked open. their boss stepped in: a lanky man in his mid-thirties, ratty white beat-up and baggy shorts hanging too low on his bony hips; a low-level foot soldier in a business that yanchen knew was so much bigger than the both of them. and it was uncomfortable—tense—because xukun could feel the pointy plastic end of the ziplock bag poking his left testicle. but yanchen had told him that it was good money—" _a lot_ of money." just that little bit was enough to get them through two months, yanchen had said; enough to get your mother medicine, enough to get your father to love you.

so, xukun resisted the urge to move. he stayed perfectly still and carried on.

barely a month later, his mother passed. it was a sad little thing that his father moved on from too quickly. pretty young thing moving into their home so soon that xukun would have believed anyone who told him that his father killed his mother just so he could move in his young new lady.

of course, his father had done no such thing; his mother had been sick with cancer for almost a decade. but that didn't stop him from cracking the girl's head open with his younger brother's toy truck, then running far and fast away from the only home he had ever known.

he was seventeen, with only one friend in the world.

"xukun! you got blood all over my door!" yanchen complained the next day, voice muffled by distance.

"... sorry...!" xukun called back awkwardly from his place on the couch, bowl of cereal in his shaking hands. skin smelling like soap, spongebob on the tv. the sky all blue and bright, as if nobody had died just twelve hours ago.

of course, people die all the time—that was what yanchen always said. people die all the time, xukun; it's the one thing you can count on people to do.

but talking about death and killing someone, xukun discovered, were two completely different things. so, his hands trembled and trembled and trembled until yanchen held them in his hands. "it'll be fine," yanchen pressed a kiss to each open palm, "it's you and me now."

and there was something about the way yanchen said it that made xukun think he owed yanchen the world. so, he tried to give yanchen as much of the world as he could.

lives taken and rules broken and principles forgotten all for yanchen's dream, all for his ambition. and yanchen never told him to do anything, but that only made xukun feel more useless. so he weaponized himself and learned new things. trained, and practiced, and read, and listened.

yanchen was the beating heart and the tireless mind of the operation, and xukun was everything else. the bones, the muscles, the thick skin. the senses—eyes to see what lay ahead, ears to hear what people said, mouth to give messages, nose to sniff out traitors and strangers. 

two turned to six to twenty to a hundred, until calling them an operation became far too _modest_. 

"yanchen, i don't know about this..." xukun's voice trembled when he talked, the same way his lips quivered when he returned the kiss yanchen gave him.

yanchen chuckled, much louder than he ever had. "just fucking do it," he whispered, dangerous, hands sly; stealing xukun's last chance at freedom, at a good life, at something honest.

 

-

 

yanchen didn't understand it: xukun's craving for a normal life. he visited tourist stops during drug deliveries, and snapped pictures of scenic cities during hostage negotiations. he wanted the white picket fence and the tickle fights.  he wanted a house in the suburbs. he wanted their neighbors to be a doctor and a professor, or a scholar and a scientist, so they moved into a twenty-bedroom mansion in a cozy 2-acre property right smack in between a shipping heiress' house and an internet millionaire's home.

it was a beautiful home, all marble and porcelain and glass. still, yanchen didn't understand it. he didn't understand why anyone would choose to stay at home and lay in egyptian cotton beds instead of taking over drug rings in the world's biggest cities.

he didn't understand wanting anything but power until he kissed zhu zhengting.

the shipping heiress' son, their next-door neighbor, proclaimed love of xukun's life.

and yanchen liked him, because he was the kind of boy that never stopped sucking on his silver spoon but knew that he had to work hard for his food. he was the kind of boy that spent his whole life being told to stay away from gateway drugs and cheap alcohol. he was the kind of boy to gel his hair up and strap his rolex on, and walk into a gala, all regal, to accept an award with his parents for something generous they must have done, then walk out of a bathroom minutes later with his lips just slightly swollen.

he was the kind of boy to marry a girl because his parents told him to, then spend all of his time in his next-door neighbor's bedroom.

he was the kind of boy who knew exactly what yanchen wanted.

"does xukun know?" he asked, metal and leather sliding against each other, grin on his lips—as if yanchen's answer would change anything.

"he doesn't have to."

zhengting pouted, and yanchen had to grit his teeth so he wouldn't come right then. "i don't want you two to fight..."

"what would we fight about?" yanchen returned, more breathless than he anticipated.

"me."

yanchen snickered, "i'd choose him over you any day, zhengting."

zhengting stopped abruptly, slender fingers just barely hanging off of yanchen's waist. hand curled into a tight fist, he slammed his knuckles against the wall beside yanchen's head. yanchen flinched; turning his head to the side, eyes shut. zhengting grabbed his face so he would look at him, tight jaw squeezed between thumb and index finger.

there was a heavy pause in time. breath held in waterlogged lungs, clock stopped.

zhengting broke into a tiny laugh. "that's it?" he chuckled, "that was kind of lame, not 'gonna lie."

"i've had a long day..." yanchen said.

zhengting chuckled, pressing the sweetest kiss against his mouth. "aw, don't worry, baby," zhengting cooed; whispering low and dangerous, "i'll fuck you better than xukun ever can."

zhengting was curled up in bed, wrapped in a fluffy white bathrobe, watching cartoons and sucking on a spoon of ice cream when xukun came home  that night.

"zhengzheng," xukun pouted, taking off his blood-stained leather gloves that zhengting always pretended not to notice, "why aren't you watching at the theatre?"

"can't walk," zhengting answered with a frown. xukun tried to climb into bed to kiss him, stopped and told to shower before getting an inch closer.

yanchen walked out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist, grinning at what he heard. "poor baby," he teased zhengting. "hey, baby," he kissed xukun.

"it's not my fault your dick is so fucking big," zhengting threw back, grumbling something under his breath, eyes not once leaving the tv screen.

xukun smiled fondly, but frowned when he turned to yanchen. he punched his stomach playfully. "greedy bitch. i was looking forward to..."

yanchen laughed, stepping an inch closer and eating up whatever space remained between the both of them. he smooched xukun's cheek, rubbed his hips, "i'll fuck you, we'll do that thing you like..." he whispered, all dirty, trying to make xukun smile again.

"... okay..." xukun agreed after a few more promises, taking his coat off, "just let me shower."

"'ting, do you 'wanna—"

" _no_ ," he threw a pillow at yanchen's head to keep him away from the bed, "go fuck in another room. i'm not moving from here."

**Author's Note:**

> this mightbecome chaptered (dont quote me on that im a flaky bitch)


End file.
